More than Watchmen
by YLJedi
Summary: Sequel to Not Quickly Broken. Bruce has joined Harvey and Gordon in their fight to save Gotham, but keeping his two identities separate is harder than he expected. And the mob will not go quietly into the night.
1. Chapter 1

The skyline was beautiful. Bright white lights against the midnight darkness. He did sometimes wish there were more variety in their skyline. Maybe more colors or unusually shaped skyscrapers would give the citizens a little more pride, and maybe that would make a difference. Gordon guessed he could bring it up with Bruce Wayne, now that he hobnobbed with celebrities.

Gordon stood next to the floodlight, waiting. He'd been here a while, and he'd wait a while longer. He hadn't shown up yesterday, and he needed to talk to him.

A swish of cloth was Gordon's only clue. He turned and his partner was suddenly standing tall and motionless on the roof.

"The thugs we arrested are talking," Gordon started with the official update. "The leader's a guy named Sivero, out of Chicago. Seems he was hired by Maroni alone; the rest of them have chosen the Joker character to fight the Lau case."

Even in the dark and covered by the mask, Gordon could see his eyes narrow. "Why would Maroni go against the others?" he rasped.

"Maroni likes to consider himself a gentleman's criminal. And the Joker is…not," Gordon settled for simplicity. "It's likely that Sivero's skipped town, but just in case -"

"I'll keep an eye out."

"There's one other thing," Gordon said. The Bat turned back around. Gordon hesitated, unsure of how to phrase the next. "Bruce Wayne is going to be working with us."

"With us?" How he could make a growl drip in disbelief, Gordon didn't know.

"Well, with Dent," he amended.

"Doing what?"

"Politics. Building support." Gordon shrugged.

"Do you trust him?" The same question he'd asked about Dent a few weeks ago, Gordon remembered.

"All he's doing is sweet-talking the media," he hedged.

His partner stared at him. "I'm not meeting with him." His voice was final, steel. Then he was gone.

...

Bruce parked the Rolls with a little less ostentatious display than usual. He gripped the wheel for a moment. This was the first public statement of his after the "Tragedy at the Penthouse," as the more sensational news reports put it (one magazine had gone alliterative with 'Pandemonium' but the public outcry at the insensitivity had been swift and severe).

It was his first interview supporting Harvey Dent. This wasn't like he'd previously planned it. One fundraiser and Harvey'd be set, and Bruce could still hide behind his playboy ways. But what he'd agreed to now would chip away at his partying image. He'd thought it was a risk worth taking, but even he was susceptible to a few self-doubts as the hour came. Still, self-doubts were one thing, but the decision had already been made. This moment of hesitation was all he was going to allow himself. He entered GCN headquarters.

Harvey was waiting in the lobby. Decked out in one of his usual business suits, there was just a little more shine and care than normal. He came up and barely shook hands before launching into his coaching review. "Remember they are going to harp on the incident at your penthouse. We can't let them run the interview; steer it back to how we are going to build from that, focus on cleaning up the streets."

A muscle in Bruce's jaw twitched. "We're calling it an incident now?"

"We're not calling it anything at all," Harvey returned as the elevator arrived and they stepped in. "We acknowledge it and move on. The priority is to point the public's focus back to the Rico success." Harvey was sounding too cold, but Bruce considered him again.

Perhaps he wasn't the only one having second thoughts in the light of day and a week later.

He turned his gaze away from the DA's profile and turned to the metallic doors. "Relax Harvey, I won't let you down."

Harvey shot him a startled glance, but then the elevator doors were opening and Tom, the face of GCN, was there reaching out a welcoming hand. It was time.

…

The hotel belonged to Wayne. He'd bought it a few years back after he'd gotten chewed out by the management for his dates' beach party stunt. That was again, _dates_ plural. Gordon shook his head. It was still hard in the abstract sense to understand that he was now working with this carouser.

There they were. Arguably the two most visible men in Gotham, starting in on their salads, unconsciously leaning in towards one another, already deep in a discussion to save their city. Gordon felt out of place.

Wayne looked up with a small smile as Gordon pulled out a chair and joined them. Harvey nodded but continued his final point about the Narrows. A waiter handed him a menu and then left with Gordon's drink order.

"How are you doing, Lieutenant?" Bruce asked when Dent finished talking.

Gordon smiled. "Doing well. I saw the highlights of your interview; it was very impressive." And it had been. Wayne had been serious but hopeful, intelligent and very determined. He'd never say it, but it had reminded him a lot of Thomas Wayne's speeches. He'd thought the reporters had seen the similarities too (after all, they ran Thomas Wayne biographies every year) but they hadn't commented upon it either. It was like they were all collectively holding their breath, not wanting to spook this new version of Bruce Wayne.

"So what's wrong?" Harvey instantly shifted the conversation.

Gordon looked around the dining hall, deciding what to say here. "Lots of the midlevel guys are stonewalling. They're off the streets right now, but they're not cutting deals."

"Doesn't matter. They'll just stay in jail and we'll get them in court."

"And that means that they will all appeal and potentially get them all overturned, leaving us with exactly nothing."

Harvey leaned back. "I'm the lawyer, let me worry about the appeals."

Then Gordon took a breath. "And I talked with our friend," he walked around the name, too public a place for his liking.

"He have any leads for us?" Bruce asked.

"He's trying, but nothing yet." Gordon paused. "I told him about your addition, Mr. Wayne, and he's not against it, but he wasn't thrilled."

Bruce nodded. "I'm not surprised. And it's all right."

"He'll warm up to the idea," Harvey encouraged Bruce. "Especially when he sees what we're accomplishing."

Gordon said nothing.

...

It was after nine, but Harvey made his way back to the office. After all, bringing down the mob was not just a 9-5 job.

Rachel was still there, poring over some files. He was the face and the power, but Rachel was just as dedicated and actually had more experience in the DA's office.

It was during nights like these that he had first fallen for her. He'd done his best flirting here, both of them staying late working on cases. Their shared love for the law and passion for justice had bonded them, and Dent was beginning to think he couldn't imagine life without her.

Rachel glanced up with an exhausted smile. "How was your meeting with Gordon?"

"It went well. Wayne was with us too. Did you catch the interview we did?"

Rachel nodded and kept the smile, but Harvey knew her well enough. "What is it?" he asked, setting down his briefcase and removing his coat.

"Nothing," was the not unexpected reply. Rachel moved around the office, gathering files from the messy piles she liked to make. It was clear she was just trying to look busy. Harvey leaned against his desk and crossed his arms.

She stilled. "It's just…" She looked up at him, her dark eyes slightly troubled. "It's just Bruce. I don't know if I like you working with him."

Harvey frowned. "Why not? You're the one who first told me there was more to him. And now that I see it too you're backtracking." He walked up and put his hands on her shoulders. "Pick a side, Counselor."

She nodded, a wisp of dark hair slipping out of her ponytail. "You're right. Forget I said anything." She looked up at him with a sly smile. "But if I see your face on any tabloid…"

"I know. I'd better hope that the mob gets to me before you do."

...

Bruce stepped onto his balcony. Another night of fighting crime, over and done with. Only there had been very little. Ever since the kidnapping attempt had failed, the criminals left in the city had been curiously idle. As if the failed kidnapping had seeped all their energy, and they were all giving up, defeated.

He knew they were there, just hiding in the brush, trying to trick him into thinking they weren't there. He knew that, but it was nice to have them running scared for once.

He was hoping. Not much, but a little.

...

Maroni left the meeting with Sivero satisfied with the new plan_. _ He should have been more alert, but even the criminals had felt the absence of so many hoodlums and relaxed the tiniest bit. Ironic, he knew.

He got into his car and reviewed the meeting. Although Sivero had failed in his original plan, Maroni still preferred him to the clown's hysterics.

The rest of the crime families had thrown their weight behind the clown, but not him. He did not like the clown, he was too…unhinged. And you don't trust your lifeblood to a nutcase. Falcone hadn't learned that lesson, and look where he'd ended up. Maroni was not going to end up like that. He'd taken over Falcone's little family, and even with Lieutenant Gordon getting a vigilante to do his dirty work, he'd still managed to make it even more profitable. But now with every family's assets frozen, they were all having to resort to desperate measures. But that didn't mean lose your mind. It meant keep calm and go clever. And Maroni was nothing if not clever.

He kept telling that to himself as he stepped out onto his stoop and found the limp, cold form of Sivero, garish white paint smeared over his disfigured face.

* * *

Hey guys, after many months, here is the start of the sequel to Not Quickly Broken. This will be my first novel-like length story in several years, so I'm a little nervous. I have it almost all plotted out though, so I should be updating regularly, hopefully once a week. Hope y'all enjoy the first installment!


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't the Wayne mansion, but it was close. Ken Gallagher was the fourth richest man in Gotham, and a man that Bruce actually admired. A self-made millionaire, he was one of the shining examples for Gotham. He was honest, hard-working, and someone they needed to support them.

But the downside of him being so honest and hardworking was that he was very much a no-nonsense man. Which meant that he had no patience for Bruce Wayne.

But that was what he was here to change.

Gallagher didn't like to throw parties, but he did host one every year – rumors were his wife put her foot down on that one. It was always very tasteful – Bruce could even remember his parents bringing him here when he was seven – Gallagher's own children had been young then and it had been Christmas time. He still remembered the magic of that night, with the snow falling gently outside, the silver decorations glistening in the fire and candlelight, and the couples swirling around the dance floor.

Now there were no kids in sight, but it was still much classier than the way most of his own parties ended up. Bruce weaved through the party. The party had a more somber atmosphere than normal, but even the most depraved socialite had some sense of mourning when the killings had happened right in front of them.

He wanted to get Gallagher alone, but the old man was skilled at avoiding him. He had always done his best to avoid Wayne whenever they were at the same function. Gallagher still invited him to his parties, but the craggy and slightly crabby millionaire had no interest in pretending friendship with him.

After about an hour he finally found a time to break away from the other guests and chase down Gallagher. Bruce surreptitiously cornered him at the bar. "Could I talk to you for a moment, sir?"

Gallagher looked up, surprise briefly flitting across his features. He was in his sixties, and his stony face said he'd earned every year. There was annoyance in the set of his shoulders, but he was the host and a gentleman, and so he nodded. "Of course."

...

Inside his home office, Gallagher sat back in his chair and listened to him with polite disinterest. "So the district attorney is cleaning up the streets. How am I supposed to be involved?"

"The Narrows." Bruce set his drink down and began carefully. "We have to take advantage of the opportunity here. Dent's locked up half the criminals. You can help us take the Narrows back. Rebuild the infrastructure, invest in the area."

Gallagher cut him off with a raised hand. "Relief and opportunity," he summarized for him.

Bruce inclined his head. "Basically."

Gallagher considered him, his fingers tapping against the desk. "What you're really asking would cost millions. If you want it done effectively. And for what? In the end there's no true benefit."

"Saving our city is not a benefit to you?"

"Since when has it been a benefit to you?" Gallagher returned. Then he shook his head and stood up. "It's not going to save the city. It's been tried before and failed. Sentimentality is all well and good, but it doesn't belong in business. No one will invest in The Narrows. Even with half the criminals gone. It's a lost cause."

"Not lost, sir," Bruce corrected. "Just abandoned."

...

Bruce took the stairs three at a time. The stairs afforded him a little more privacy, and he also wanted to work off some excess energy.

He walked into Harvey's office, bypassing the secretary with a rakish grin and no hesitation. "Gallagher's in," he announced without preamble.

Dent was standing in the middle of the room, his cell phone coming down from his ear. He turned at Bruce's entrance.

"He's going to partner with Wayne Enterprises to rebuild the Monorail," Bruce continued his report as made his way in and lounged into the plastic chair in front of Dent's desk. "And he's going to consider relocating some of his branches down there."

Dent was actually surprised. "He's going to put one of his electronic stores in the Narrows?"

"If you build it, they will come," Bruce intoned. Then he actually took in the plastic chair he was sitting in. He turned his gaze to the entire room. "Did they give you a fifty dollar budget to decorate your office?"

"Three hundred actually," Dent said, settling in behind his desk. "But all this came from storage."

Bruce shook his head. "You _are_ Gotham's' district attorney," he reminded him. "The people are not going to scream corruption just because you have better chairs than Arkham."

"But why take the chance?" Dent responded congenially enough to the ribbing.

"And please tell me that's not a metaphor." Bruce gestured to the far wall – or rather, the eight-foot window that looked in on another lawyer's office. Transparency at its finest.

Harvey paused for a moment at Wayne's observation. He was still surprised at the intelligence that had been hidden behind the lazy, spoiled façade. "Of course it is. Image is everything." He hoped the statement hadn't sounded too loaded. He hadn't meant it that way. Not completely.

"I still can't believe you got Gallagher to agree," Harvey changed the subject back.

"He took some convincing," Bruce admitted.

"How'd you do it?" Harvey asked.

"Accused him of working for the mob."

Harvey blinked. "I'm surprised he didn't throw you out of his house. Or deck you."

"Who says he didn't?"

...

Gordon dug into the files. He was going to take as much advantage as possible out of the five hundred criminals off of the streets. True, about a hundred or so had made bail, but no matter what, they now had five hundred fingerprints in the system and all of those in jail still in the process of being thoroughly interrogated. They had to make the most of the opportunity.

So all the unsolved murders were being brought out and dusted off. He had all the detectives he could spare in MCU busting their humps. It was a lot of information to compile, but they were going to do it.

He picked up the file that had been a badge of dishonor for Gotham PD for over a year now: the murder of Carl Finch, the former district attorney.

Finch had been a decent district attorney. Decent both in quality and in character. Not shining and aggressive like Dent, but he hadn't been corrupt. At least not that Gordon knew. He'd been steady and solid, but he didn't make waves.

The only time Finch had really made headlines was for his own attempt to take down the Falcone "family." And that was where Gordon had to disagree. Finch had let Joe Chill walk, all for information. Yes, information that could have potentially brought Falcone down, and yes, Chill had been killed before he got to enjoy his respite. But the principle was something he didn't like. Telling the world you only had to serve ten years for murdering two people as long as you could chat about your roommate was not a good precedent.

And that was the most complete difference between Dent and Finch in Gordon's mind. There were the more obvious differences: Harvey's flair and passion, Finch's laid-back world-weariness. But having worked alongside Dent these past few months, Gordon could see something more. That inside Dent there was a fundamental core of justice. Not American courtroom justice, or at least not just that.

Dent was more like the Batman than the former district attorney. And the Bat, Gordon had had a lot of practice analyzing. The Batman was a contradiction. He was a vigilante who so far went out of his way to not kill the criminals he was hunting down. A vigilante with strict morals. He tried to be both ninja and knight – a terrifying Sir Lancelot. Or, as Barbara had put it one morning they had enjoyed Jimmy's Saturday morning cartoons, a goth Power Ranger.

And while Dent was certainly not a Ranger or an assassin, he and the Batman were at heart the same. They were both cowboys. They both simply believed and fought for the justice of the Old West, where the good guys win and the bad guys get punished.

Dent would not have cut a deal with Chill. At least he didn't think so. Gordon frowned to himself. Before he built Dent up anymore in his mind than he already had, he should probably ask him.

...

It started with an alarm that evening. A silent alarm at a convenience store, routine enough. Well, if not routine, then expected. But over the course of the next week the calls continued to increase, until the GPD was inundated with burglaries and robberies all over the city.

The Bat was delivering three or four bad guys a night, and it didn't seem to even be making a dent in the crime wave that was surging.

Gordon was out at the remains of an attempted bank robbery this night. Unlike the Joker's recent one, this one was sloppy and unsuccessful – but still deadly. And that was the pattern with most of these crimes – unorganized, unsuccessful, but the criminals were determined to try.

The Bat was waiting for him as he headed back out to his car. Much safer than when he had come all the way inside the bank like last time.

"What's going on?" Gordon voiced the question that had been plaguing GPD. It just didn't seem to make sense for all these crimes to be happening. Half of the criminals were locked up, and if the other half were going to do all these crimes, surely they could put more thought behind them and get a little more successful at them. So far, most of the bigger scale attempted robberies had ended in failure.

"They aren't from Gotham."

"The bank robbers?"

"All of them. The mob's brought them in from Chicago and New York. And soon from Boston."

"But we have their funds. How are they paying them?"

"They're on loan."

Gordon cursed under his breath. "So they've drafted their own private army," he muttered. "How did you - ?" He turned; the Bat was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Stephens watched as Lieutenant Gordon stood in front of the conference room of GPD Central Division. Gordon had asked for this meeting, and technically he probably should have cleared it first with Commissioner Loeb, but it was a minor infraction at worst.

He scanned the faces of the sergeants and lieutenants for all of Gotham. A lot of them he had worked with in his twenty years on the force. And most of the time he had been surrounded by their corruption. But Batman's actions had seemed to help re-inspire the original hunger for justice and their own moral code. At least for some. He hoped the renewed sense of honor would last.

Gordon started the meeting. It was a simple one really. He was just going over the logistics and the hunt 'em down policy they were now enacting against the influx of criminals. They had to be as aggressive and proactive as possible.

It was a simple meeting, but Stephens could tell Gordon was nervous. It was subtle, and he hoped the others didn't notice. Gordon had only been a lieutenant for a year, even though he should have been promoted several years earlier. But his…lack of political skills had kept the higher ups promoting the other sergeants rather than him. But finally they had had no choice but to promote him. He'd helped save Gotham during one of the worst nights the city had ever faced, and even the most jaded and corrupt cop in GPD could admit it. Gordon deserved his promotion, even if he had to ride the coattails of a vigilante to get it.

Stephens was proud to be working with him. He just didn't know how much they were truly going to accomplish. But he couldn't let the others know that, so he squared his shoulders and refocused his attention on Gordon.

...

"I thought I was used to politicians," Dent ranted over dinner. "But they are coming out of the woodwork now. Calling me up night and day, stopping by my office, waiting for me outside the courthouse, all to tell me that their particular scumbag is not a scumbag at all, and it would be in my best interest to help them out."

"Shocking," Rachel commiserated. She glanced over at Bruce and shared a suffering smile.

They were in Wayne's private dining room. It was just the three of them, and the dinner had started out awkwardly enough. Even though it was just them, and Rachel had insisted they would be okay in their work clothes, Harvey felt completely aware of his class when surrounded by the gleaming cutlery, the thousand dollar plus paintings, and the surprisingly comfortable but still ornate dining chairs. Why couldn't the rich enjoy a microwave pizza in front of the TV like a normal person?

"Are they threatening you?" Bruce asked, straightening from his carefully relaxed slouch.

"Most are just politely bribing me," Harvey clarified. "I figure they'll start to really worry when the trial heats up. Right now they don't know how far they want to stick their necks out."

Rachel tilted her head. "You'd think they'd already start distancing themselves from their mob connections." Harvey envied her her ease; she was leaning back in her chair, and Harvey was certain she'd let her high heels slip off under the table. For him, he was still too uncomfortable to loosen his tie.

Wayne disagreed with her. "Politicians are smart. And the mob has a track record of coming out on top here."

"Well, that's about to change," she said with confidence. "We've got Lau, they don't have access to any of their funds,"

"And we've got Harvey," Bruce finished, raising his glass.

Harvey appreciated the support but disagreed. "We've got the Batman. He made all this possible. He got us Lau." Rachel conceded the point to him.

Wayne frowned. "What do you mean? I thought he was just arrested?"

"No, he was back in China before we could get him. And once he got there we couldn't do anything legally." Harvey leaned forward, enjoying the opportunity to brag on the outlaw. "So the Batman storms his headquarters, kidnaps him, and brings him back. It's still all over the news in Hong Kong."

"Impressive."

"Well, you've seen him in action."

Bruce dipped his head. "Yeah, I did. He really was great. Scary, but great."

"Let's talk about something else," Rachel interrupted, straightening in her chair.

Harvey sobered as he considered her. When they had both finally made it home from that night and the adrenaline and shock had disappeared, Rachel had fallen into his arms, shaking but trying so hard to control herself. Harvey had never seen her like that, and it had frightened him almost as much as the kidnapping. He'd held her close, reassured her, and promised himself he'd never put her in that position again. "Of course," he said, taking her hand.

Rachel smiled at him and changed the topic herself. "Did you hear the Kevin Sloane trial is finally going to court tomorrow?"

Harvey scoffed at her. "Yes, the Sloane trial. That's a much cheerier topic."

"What's the Sloane trial?" Bruce's question shifted his attention.

Harvey stared at him. "Kevin Sloane?" At Bruce's mystified shrug, he continued, "The home invasion about five years ago? He murdered that whole family?"

"Bruce wasn't here then," Rachel explained.

"That's right." He pointed his fork at Bruce as it came to him. "I remember reading about that. You were even declared dead, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was." Bruce's voice was flat and even. He didn't elaborate.

"It was bad," Rachel explained the case to Bruce. "The evidence is solid, but Sloane's attorney got so many continuances and delays that it's just getting to trial this week."

"And why aren't either of you prosecuting?"

"Five years ago we were nobodies," Harvey said. "Amy Talbot's got the case. She's good."

"She's putting Gordon on the stand tomorrow," Rachel added.

Bruce's eyes shot to her. "Why?"

"It was his case. Talbot's going to have him walk the jury through the whole investigation. Then she'll call up the specific witnesses and experts."

Harvey sighed. "I've seen some of the photos of the crime scene. That's not going to be fun."

...

After the judge had adjourned his session, Harvey headed down to the next courtroom and slipped inside. Gordon was already on the stand. Harvey stood, leaning in the back. The lieutenant didn't notice him. No one did, all the attention was on the stars of the trial. He could probably stay unnoticed for hours.

Gordon walked them through the crime scene, explaining how it looked when the cops first arrived. Talbot showed several photographs of the victims. Gordon was stoic even as most of the courtroom flinched and turned away from some of the terrible images. But Harvey knew it was costing Gordon a lot as he listed the injuries to the children.

Something caught Harvey's eye. Further in the shadows at the end of the back wall was Bruce Wayne. Wayne was dressed down – still in a dark suit, but devoid of his usual impeccable style and with a much less visible aura of money about him. It wasn't a disguise per se, but it did deflect attention, and with the drama all happening at the front of the courtroom, Harvey could see how he had remained unnoticed by the reporters.

He was surprised that Wayne had come, since he hadn't even been aware this crime had occurred. But maybe that was just it: simple curiosity.

The cross examination started out the way Dent expected it to, the defense attorney Pierce attempting to chip away at the assumptions Gordon had made in order to get to Sloane. Gordon held his own though in his quiet, composed way. He was every prosecutor's dream cop, and Harvey knew he was winning big points with the jurors.

Pierce began his next question. "As a detective, how many cases do you handle in a given year?"

"That's hard to estimate," Gordon replied. "Maybe fifty, sometimes more."

"And how many did you successfully solve?"

"I don't have that memorized; if you truly need it, you can look it up."

"That's not necessary," Pierce waved away Gordon's comment. "But could you ballpark it? How does your closure rate compare to other detectives?"

Gordon shrugged. "Average."

Pierce appeared surprised, but Harvey knew better. "And with an average rating you were suddenly promoted to lieutenant and are now the head of your very own Major Crimes Unit." He paused, but Gordon said nothing. Another reason prosecutors loved him, Harvey thought; he knew how to stay quiet unless directly asked.

And so Pierce asked the question. "How do you account for that?"

Gordon was ready, but careful. "My promotion was in response to my actions during last year's terrorism in the Narrows."

"More correctly," Pierce said, "your promotion was because of the Batman, and had nothing to do with your investigative skills."

"Objection," Talbot stood. "This trial is not about the Batman or Lieutenant Gordon, and it seems the only defense Mr. Pierce has for his client is to try to besmirch the reputation of an outstanding police officer."

The defense lawyer shook his head. "It's necessary, Your Honor. The evidence against my client comes from this officer's investigative ability, and it is clear Ms. Talbot wants the jury to view the Lieutenant as the supercop the media has made him out to be. But allowing that delusion will not be giving my client the just and fair trial he is owed."

Talbot protested again, but the judge reluctantly ruled in favor of the defense, and Pierce continued his questions.

Gordon kept his poker face very well. Or perhaps it didn't bother him. But it bothered Harvey.

He didn't notice when Bruce slipped out.

...

Gordon slowly took the trash out that evening. He closed the lid and then paused, unable to repress a sigh. Sometimes he couldn't take this city.

"Gordon."

He looked up, wondering why he was so surprised. "What are you doing here?" He inwardly rebuked himself for the curt tone.

"8th and Orchard. Possible lead on some of the mob from Chicago."

"8th and Orchard," Gordon repeated, committing it to memory.

He leaned against the post for a few more minutes, trying to prepare himself for tomorrow. It wasn't like he was that bothered by the comments, but good gossip travelled fast, and he wasn't looking forward to the pitying looks from some in GPD or the smug, superior glances from the rest.

But he could handle it. He straightened up and turned to go in.

"Gordon." The Batman was still there, crouched on the railing. Gordon thought he would have disappeared as soon as he'd given him the information. He turned back to him, wondering if he'd missed something. He could feel his face warm as he realized the other man had watched him mope.

The Batman stared at him for a moment. "There was a reason why I picked you."

Gossip really did travel fast, Gordon thought. He wanted to be annoyed at the pity even the Batman was offering, but it wasn't pity, and he knew that. And he did remember why. He looked up at the nut who'd become his greatest ally and gave a small smile.


	4. Chapter 4

Harvey wandered into MCU headquarters. Normally he would drag Gordon to his office, but he decided to give him a break this time. Wuertz gave him a sour look as he passed, but that was all right; he hated his guts too.

He paused in front of Gordon's open door. The lieutenant was deep in a discussion with his favored rookie, Ramirez, and he felt the old disgust with Gordon flare up again, but he tamped it down.

The lieutenant glanced up and waved him in, dismissing Ramirez. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Need to update Lau." That was a lie. He actually had no reason to be here, but after he'd ranted and obsessed all day over Gordon's treatment at the trial, Rachel had finally sniped at him to go check on his friend. A label Harvey had adamantly denied, but still. Here he was.

The phone rang, interrupting whatever the older man was going to say in reply. Gordon answered, and Harvey saw him immediately tense.

"When? … Get every available SWAT unit there now." Gordon hung up and tore out of his office. Harvey was quick on his heels.

"There's been a riot at the Gaines Unit," he announced. "SWAT's on its way. Wuertz, contact Loeb and get him out there. Ramirez, find the mayor. We might have to get the governor involved, and Garcia's the one that needs to be handling that."

Everyone started scrambling. Harvey was pushed to the side as officers made their way to the front.

In the midst of the chaos, Stephens had stayed on the phone. Now, he hung up and turned to the head of MCU. "Jim." His tone stopped Gordon cold. "A citizen says he's found Batman dead in an alley."

Gordon didn't move for a second. To their credit, none of the officers stopped preparing to leave, but they did slow down and quiet their movements, surreptitiously glancing at their lieutenant or each other.

Then Gordon was moving again. "You go check it out; everyone else with me." He spun on his heel and left, officers racing to join him.

Stephens grabbed his coat, and Dent finally sprung away from the wall he'd been pushed to.

"I'm going with you," he said. Stephens opened his mouth to object, but seeing the determination on the attorney's face, he simply nodded.

..

Twenty minutes of tense silence later, they reached the alley. Two black-and-whites were already there, one officer interviewing what had to be the person who called it in.

They reached the caped body. There was a mask on him, but one look at the rest of the outfit and it was clear.

"It's not him." Harvey breathed a sigh of relief.

Stephens carefully removed the rubber bat mask, revealing the face of a young man, probably no more than college age. Harvey looked at the well-meaning but completely outmatched man. Another family was about to be heartbroken.

Wordlessly Stephens showed him the playing card attached to the victim. Harvey nodded; he'd seen that exact card before, on a body just like this.

Something made him look around, and he raked his eyes over the dark alley. There. The faintest glint of armor. He stepped cautiously over to him. The Bat didn't move.

"Did you see anything?" he asked.

The Batman turned his head, and Dent could feel the contempt for the question burning from the stare he was given. If the vigilante had seen something, the killers would be tied up and waiting for them. Maybe even dead.

"The Joker again?" the Bat asked in his deep growl.

Dent nodded. "Why's he obsessed with you? If the mob hired him to fight against the Lau case, how does unmasking you solve that?"

The self-appointed protector of Gotham shook his head. "I don't know."

Harvey hesitated. "Gordon's out handling a riot at the prison."

The Batman nodded. "Gaines. Most of them men you arrested are there."

"You think the mob's trying to take it over?"

The EMTs arrived and arranged the body on the stretcher. When Harvey shifted his attention back, the Batman was nowhere to be found.

..

It was controlled chaos when Gordon arrived. He immediately sought out the warden, and listened to his plan of attack. Jim was not going to take over from him; he was here to support him and give him the additional manpower needed.

It wasn't as bad as they feared. The prisoners hadn't snuck in guns, so tear gas and SWAT were doing a lot. Slowly but surely they were subduing all the prisoners and regaining control.

Soon they were coming upon the bodies. Ten in all, killed in various ways, but very obviously murdered by the other prisoners.

"So the riot had a deeper purpose," Gordon murmured as he checked over one body.

"You recognize these men, sir?" one of the prison guards asked him. At his negative, the guard continued, "These are some of the guys Dent just arrested. They were all about to cut deals."

..

Stephens kept saying that he would be more of a hindrance than a help at the prison, and so he agreed to be dropped off at the station. He watched as the detective pulled away to join Gordon, and then he was heading for his own car.

..

The situation calmed enough that Gordon felt he and the warden could take the time to update the head honchos. Commissioner Loeb was among those gathered in the warden's office. As was Dent, he noted in surprise.

The Commissioner spoke first. "Well, Gordon? What's the situation?"

"Under control. SWAT's doing one last sweep, but we believe we have most of the prisoners accounted for. The guards are crosschecking them right now."

"Were any hostages taken?" Dent asked.

Gordon shook his head. "No hostages and no guards killed. A few were injured, but nothing life-threatening."

The warden spoke up now. "Ten of the prisoners were killed though."

"Deliberate or collateral?" That was Loeb.

"Deliberately," Gordon answered. "And it appears they were some of the ones about to work out deals in the Lau case."

The Commissioner cursed. "That's just great." He began to dress Gordon down. "It's not enough that your publicity stunt has made the crime rate soar, but now we're going to have attorneys and families screaming at us that we can't protect the ones we _have_ arrested."

"Sir, we can handle that. This will not happen again." Gordon gestured to the warden. "He and I are already discussing maximum security– "

The commissioner cut him off. "I will deal with the warden about that. I want you to go down and personally reassure the mayor. He's got the governor threatening to have the National Guard brought in here. Again."

Gordon's mouth tightened, but all he said was, "Yes, sir."

Loeb wasn't finished yet. "And you might want to have a meeting with that friend of yours and get him to do something about all the crime he's started." Gordon didn't respond as he left the office.

Harvey gave the Commissioner a contemptuous look and followed the lieutenant out.

..

Outside, he jogged down the steps after Gordon. "So, when are you going to tell the Batman about Loeb's new idea that he should catch the criminals?"

Gordon stopped and turned back to him. "So it wasn't him."

Harvey berated himself. "No, it wasn't him. Sorry, I should have led with that."

Gordon dismissed the apology, but Harvey couldn't let his idiocy go. "I even talked with the real one, so he's definitely alive."

The lieutenant raised an eyebrow at that bit of news, but then resumed hustling down the steps.

Harvey hurried to keep in step with him. "You'd think Loeb would save some of that bluster for the warden. It was his prison that got rioted, after all."

"He's just frustrated right now."

"Come on, that was personal."

Gordon shrugged. "He's not my number one fan. And he doesn't appreciate that you cut him out of the biggest bust Gotham's ever seen."

"Hey, if he wants in instead of you next time, then he needs to up his game."

Gordon didn't spare him a glance as he headed for his car. "I'll let you tell him that."

Harvey put a hand out to stop Gordon. "Loeb's right though. This will undermine everything. If you can't figure out how to house these guys safely…" he shook his head. "We might have to release them, bail or no bail. And then with the appeals, everything would be ruined."

"It's a house of cards," Gordon summarized. He knew all this, he didn't need Dent to explain it to him.

But then again, it probably wasn't going to be his face plastered to the headlines if this whole case collapsed into one giant catastrophe.


	5. Chapter 5

Up in his penthouse Bruce stood, arms folded, remote in one hand. His brow furrowed as he watched the press conference unfolding on the screen.

"_Mr. Dent, can you confirm that this was a deliberate attempt by the mob to take over the prison?"_

_Dent shook his head. "That is still under investigation, and I will not speculate before the police have released their own findings."_

_There was a cacophony of yelled questions and demands, as each reporter tried to get the next question in._

_And older man stood up. "Mr. Dent, many people expressed worry that your RICO case is overreaching and unlawful. And now ten men are dead before they were even able to stand trial. What do you have to say about that?"_

"_My heart goes out to the families of those killed. But their deaths were the result of other prisoners, not because any of their arrests were unlawful."_

"_The governor is threatening to send in the National Guard to deal with this mess," another journalist spoke up._

"_And we fully appreciate the governor's concern and would welcome the help if and when it is needed. But that is not now." Harvey was firm. "The situation is under control and increased security has already been put in place to insure that it does not happen again."_

Alfred had joined Bruce and shook his head at the answer. "That's not going to be enough to satisfy anybody."

"It's all they've been able to do at the moment. Give them time."

"What are their plans?"

"How should I know?"

Alfred glanced at him in surprise. "Lieutenant Gordon has not asked for the Batman's advice?"

Bruce's attention was still focused on the screen as he answered. "He's a little too busy to meet right now. And I don't think he believes this is Batman's area of expertise."

"_And what about Marvin Murphy?" A woman asked sharply._

_Harvey appeared to be trying to place the name. "I'm sorry, who is that?"_

"_The 23-year-old killed by the Joker."_

Bruce tensed.

_Harvey closed his eyes. "It's horrible. I didn't know Marvin, but he was obviously a great kid who was just trying to help Gotham."_

"_He got killed because he dressed up like the Batman. This is the second person killed because the Joker wants the real Batman."_

"_What's your question?" Dent responded, his voice clipped._

"_Rumor has it you support the Batman. Is that true?"_

"_Well, if my two choices are the Joker and the Batman, I'll go with the one who isn't a murderer."_

_There was a murmur as the reporters ate up Dent's scornful reply._

_The journalist wasn't to be deterred. "So, you're saying you support the shenanigans of an outlaw vigilante?"_

"_I might remind you that the Batman saved my life recently, along with dozens of others."_

"_And he also caused this boy's death."_

"_The Joker killed that Murphy kid, not the Batman. And I find it disappointing that you seem to be supporting the boy's killer and not the person he was trying to help." With that Dent walked away from the podium, ignoring the frenzied shouts that followed him._

Alfred turned to Bruce. "Well, it's nice to know one person prefers you to the Joker."

Bruce smiled slightly in response as he got out his cell phone. "Harvey, it's Bruce. Call me back."

..

Three days had passed since the press conference, and the media had not given up its obsession with the prison murders. Harvey left the office and hurried to his car before the waiting horde could notice him. Throwing his phone down with a sigh, he started the car and headed home.

The events of the past couple of days had had him going nonstop, and the press had been relentless. Impulsively, he cranked the wheel. He didn't feel up to the confines of his apartment just yet.

Soon he'd left the stifling skyscrapers behind. It wasn't clear to him until he'd arrived, however, that he actually had a destination in mind.

Harvey got out of his car and walked up to the construction site of Wayne Manor. A padlocked fence prevented him from getting close to the actual monstrosity being built. And the construction was massive. At least the equipment being used was. The actual manor was still just the barest of skeletons. He could almost be convinced it was just the remains from the fire, the corpse of the old estate. The fading sun threw odd shadows, and what with the fence and the dozen keep off signs, Harvey half expected rabid Dobermans to lunge out at him from the darkness.

And a figure was coming towards him. The setting sun was to the man's back, putting him in shadow.

"Harvey?"

He supposed, on further reflection, he should be a little embarrassed to be caught snooping around, but he'd spent his entire career prying open secrets to be self-conscious about it now. And so, Bruce Wayne's arrival did not unsettle him, but the coincidence of their visits did surprise him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked the billionaire.

Bruce jogged gracefully up the steps and now stood even with him. He was barely wearing a jacket, the lawyer noticed with a twinge of envy, and here he was, burrowing into his trench coat.

Harvey's question appeared to amuse him. "My house, my property, my right," was his almost sing-song answer. "And you?"

"You told me to know where my jurisdiction ends," Harvey sidestepped. "I got your message," he added.

"And instead of calling me back, you decided to stalk me."

"The legal term is criminal harassment."

The playboy produced a key and stepped up to the gate. "And now it's not even trespassing," Bruce said, pushing it open.

After a moment's surprised hesitation, Harvey followed him.

..

It hadn't been coincidence. Bruce had started tracking Harvey's phone since their kidnapping, and his programming had alerted him that the attorney was outside his normal locations. Bruce shook his head when he saw the address. The man hadn't called him back in three days, and suddenly he was driving out to the Palisades.

He'd headed after him, wondering what exactly Dent wanted. But almost as soon as they started talking, Bruce readjusted his thinking.

He opened up the gate and immediately proceeded to give Harvey a tour of the construction. The DA listened with rapt attention, running his hands over the walls and beams, crouching down to examine the flooring.

"How long is it going to take to rebuild?"

"At least another eight months. It took some time to find a copy of the original plans," Bruce explained.

"Why would you need those?"

He was puzzled by the question. "So they can rebuild it."

"You're not modernizing it?"

He just shook his head.

The attorney stared up at the beams. "Then what was the point –" he started to ask before he apparently realized he was talking out loud and cut himself off.

But Bruce could finish the question. What was the point of burning it down in the first place.

"What were you calling about?" Harvey asked instead.

Bruce studied him for a moment, wondering if the DA was relaxed enough for him to bring real life back up.

"I wanted to see how things were going up at Attica." He regretted his phrasing as Harvey bristled. But just as quickly, the other man calmed, accepting the name.

"I'm surprised the press hasn't called it that yet."

"Give them time."

Dent snorted in agreement.

"They're giving you a beating," the billionaire commiserated.

Harvey straightened. "Well, criminals don't worry about the negative publicity, so neither should we."

"They also don't care about the laws."

"And we're working with the Batman," the attorney shot back. Bruce had nothing to add to that.

Walking a few yards over, he opened up a cooler left behind by the crew. The ice had long since melted, but inside…

He shook his head as he tossed Harvey a Diet Coke. "Thought it'd be beer."

Harvey popped the top off of the can. "Aspartame's good enough for me."

The playboy toasted him and then waited a moment, considering. "You've got to keep me informed, Harvey," he finally said.

Dent looked over, hearing the serious tone. "With Attica?" he asked, surprised. "There's nothing you can do about that."

"You don't know that." He was dead serious as he spoke. "I'm rich and I'm smart, and neither of us know when that might help."

Dent sized him up. "You got any ideas?"

"No," he said simply. "But you still don't shut me out." Gordon hadn't met with the Batman, and Harvey hadn't called him back. He was uncertain of this decision to advertise his talents so, even just to them, but he was fifty percent of this team, and he had not appreciated being left out of the loop.


	6. Chapter 6

Gordon knew he was too early, way too early, but he couldn't help it. He'd gotten the last phone call and agreement late the night before, and he was anxious to get moving on it.

It was also crazy, and he found that he was relying on Dent's support to get it accomplished. He could bring his idea to Loeb, and no matter what Dent thought, Loeb was a decent man and would have looked at his plan. But Loeb wouldn't go for it, Jim knew, so now instead of just going outside the law with the Batman, he was now going to go over the commissioner's head. Five years ago, even two years ago, he never would have even contemplated doing this.

Twenty minutes later footsteps echoed down the hall, and Dent appeared around the corner, briefcase in hand and his coat draped over one arm. "Gordon?" he asked in surprise, checking his watch.

Jim straightened from his slight lean against the wall. "I know it's early, but I figured you wouldn't be busy right now."

Dent stepped next to him and unlocked the door to the secretary's office. "What's this about?" he asked as he gestured Gordon inside.

"I have an idea I want to run by you."

"About?"

"Your five hundred RICO prisoners."

Dent opened his mouth, most likely to inquire about the details, then stopped. With a groan he dug out his cell phone. Gordon watched him, puzzled.

"Bruce? Come on down to my office; Gordon has an idea." A pause then, "Wake up, Wayne, you wanted in on this."

..

Inside Dent's office, Gordon prepared himself for a wait. He didn't want to get frustrated with Wayne just because the young man was unknowingly disrupting his schedule. Harvey had explained that Wayne wanted to be kept in the loop, and even though he'd never expected the man to be this involved in the practical side, Gordon would support him. He was glad that the young billionaire was continuing to grow in his desire to help Gotham. And so he settled into his chair and tried to be patient as he waited for the man to make his way over.

But Wayne surprised him, showing up before it had even hit seven. Gordon stood up as the young man strolled in, shaking hands with Dent before coming over to greet him. He hadn't seen the billionaire in weeks, and barely before that, but Jim thought he'd never seen the man look worse. The nicest Gordon could describe him as was rumpled. He was dressed in dark jeans and a long, dark grey shirt that just seemed to highlight the deep shadows under his eyes. He obviously hadn't taken the time to shave, and his hair was sweaty and unkempt, making it look like he'd sprinted the whole way here.

Wayne caught him staring in concern, and the billionaire flashed a tired grin. "Sorry, I'm not used to waking up this early."

"I didn't mean to disturb you."

Bruce waved his apology away, and Harvey just snorted from where he leaned against the desk. "Don't apologize when I'm the one who called him, and he's the one who wants to be included in this."

"And what is this about?" the playboy turned to Harvey, shifting the conversation to the business at hand.

Dent just gestured to Gordon. The detective tamped down on the unexpected flash of nervousness as two pairs of eyes waited expectantly. He set five files down in front of the DA.

"Texas, Idaho, Oregon, Michigan, and Kansas. They've all agreed to swap."

Harvey picked up one of the files. "Swap?"

Gordon took a breath and dove into his speech. "Increasing security in the units will not solve our problems. It's just shutting the barn door. The mob is going to be there regardless of what we try to do; they've had too many years to solidify their presence."

"So you want to transfer prisoners across state lines?" Harvey interrupted. "That's illegal."

"It's a grey area," Jim disputed in his quiet murmur.

"It's only done in four states."

"And I'm guessing we're not one of them?" Wayne asked.

"No," Harvey answered, pushing off the desk. "And legislation to change that would probably take longer than prosecuting the entire RICO case."

"It's not illegal," Gordon argued, "we just don't do it." He shrugged. "Now, we will."

Dent was not sold. "We can't transfer men who haven't even been convicted yet. That could get the entire case thrown out. An improper housing charge alone," he trailed off, shaking his head.

Gordon tried to reassure him. "So we get the prisoners to sign an agreement before we move them. The murders could work in our favor; they'll be too scared to stay."

"There's a good defense." Harvey studied one of the files. He looked up with a frown. "And who exactly is the 'they' you mentioned?"

Inwardly Gordon steeled himself. "Some wardens I talked to."

Dent narrowed his eyes. "So the governors have no idea what's going on."

Jim looked off, unconcerned. "If you think they should know, you're welcome to tell them."

Harvey just stared at him for a long moment. "The power's getting to you, Gordon. You start taking down the mob and suddenly you want to boss around half of America."

Jim bristled for a moment, but then he caught the twinkle in Dent's eyes and realized with a bit of surprise that the lawyer was teasing him. "Five states is hardly half," he responded after a beat.

Dent conceded that with a slight smile, turning his attention back to the files. Gordon watched and waited as the lawyer analyzed the details.

Finally Dent put them down with a sigh. "It's a nice idea, but with all the laws we'd be flirting with..." he shook his head. "I don't see us winning if we do this."

In truth, Dent's hesitation surprised Gordon; ever since he'd met the man, he'd always gone for the bold moves. The detective opened his mouth to try another shot at persuasion, but Wayne spoke first.

"Winning doesn't matter."

That got both his and Harvey's attention. Wayne leaned forward, determination in his eyes as he talked to Dent.

"Winning this one trial is not the end goal," he continued. "We're trying to bring the mob to its knees. You've got Lau," Bruce reminded Harvey, counting on his hands, "Lau's got their money, and you have hundreds of their men locked up. And now Gordon's giving you the time you need."

Harvey was listening to him, but interrupted here. "What time? He's going to get the charges thrown out."

"Even if it brings problems, problems mean time. Protests, appeals, delays, whatever," the billionaire shrugged, unconcerned. "As long as during that time they are off the streets, it doesn't matter. We're still draining the mob dry."

Gordon found he was staring. Wayne had articulated it better than he could and raised a point he hadn't fully considered. During the kidnapping, he'd been surprised at the Wayne's courage, and then afterwards he was pleased at his decision to support Dent, but now. Now he was impressed.

And it looked like Harvey was considering the points he made.

The district attorney turned back to Gordon. "Everyone that we transfer will have to sign a waiver. And I have to let Garcia in on it."

Gordon didn't like getting politicians involved, but he deferred to Dent.

Harvey caught his grimace, though. "There's no way around it. He can make the decision to contact anyone else, but we need someone who can smooth things over if it goes south."

"I thought that was your job," Wayne commented. Then he leaned forward. "What's our time frame? We need to get this moving as soon as possible."

Harvey just tossed a file at him. Soon all three were engrossed in analyzing and planning. A cop, a lawyer, and a playboy – it was like the beginning of a bad joke. It didn't strike Gordon until much later, how natural it felt.


	7. Chapter 7

Stephens glanced up as Harvey Dent walked into MCU headquarters. He was starting to become a familiar fixture around here, it seemed. He didn't know if that boded well or not. He had spent barely an hour alone with the man, when the district attorney had demanded to accompany him to the Batman – now identified as Marvin Murphy – crime scene. The man had been insistent to be involved both with the Batman investigation and with the prison riot. Stephens had thought he had managed to convince him to stay behind when he dropped him off at the station, but as soon as he turned around, Dent had been right there at the Gaines Unit, already involved in the VIP brainstorming session. He should have expected no less from Harvey Two-Face.

But Jim seemed to consider him to be a good ally, what with them both being so heavily involved in the Lau case and certainly after their shared kidnapping experience. So with a quiet sigh, Stephens pasted on a friendly smile and greeted the district attorney.

"Gordon's at a meeting up at Central," he replied to Dent's query. "What do you need?"

"Lau," the poster boy for justice stated. "Need to prepare him for his big day. You got any place cozier than the interrogation room?"

Looking around, Stephens spotted the object of his search. "Ramirez," he called out as the rookie detective walked into the bullpen. "Get Lau out of holding and put him in the small conference room." Ramirez nodded and left to do his bidding.

Stephens gestured for Dent to follow him. He led him into the seldom-used, small meeting room in the back. The lawyer took a look around and nodded his approval. Moving into the center, he placed his briefcase down and began removing files. Without glancing up he called back to Stephens. "His lawyer should be arriving soon. Show him over here, will you?"

Stephens grunted an affirmative as he left. Already he was just the hired help to the man. Gordon must see something more.

..

Harvey pressed and pressed Lau. He made him walk through the entire set-up with Maroni, Chechen, Gambol, and the rest. He flung question after question at him that the defense would undoubtedly bring up. Lau handled them with ease, the same cocky indifference on his face that he'd had when Rachel had interrogated him.

Dent had Lau outline every meeting he'd ever had with members of the mob, whether in person, phone, or video conference. Then they moved on to how he'd taken all the mob's savings. Harvey pressed for names, trying to find who leaked Gordon's multi-bank search and seizure. Lau denied knowing any specific names, just that Maroni had apprised him of the plan. Frustrated, Dent waved for him to go on, and he listened intently, making the occasional note of a point he wanted to go back over. His head snapped up as a name broke his concentration.

"Wayne? He's working with you?"

The glorified accountant paused, studying him. "Does that bother you?" he asked in feigned surprise.

Lau's lawyer spoke up before Harvey could retort. "Bruce Wayne is now the head of Harvey Dent's political team," he informed his client, but he kept his eyes on Dent, a slight mocking evident in his tone. The two of them had never gotten along.

A sardonic smile crept onto Lau's face as he leaned back in his chair. "And it wouldn't look good for you if your man turned out to be another frontman for the mob."

Harvey's eyes narrowed. "Is he?" he bit out.

Lau snorted in derision, and even though Dent had thought he'd known the answer, he was never more relieved to hear that sound in his life. "Hardly. Mr. Wayne doesn't have the brains to follow a simple board meeting; he has no place in the financial world, let alone the underworld."

..

An hour later Dent walked back out to the front and found Stephens. "We're done. Ramirez is putting Lau back in his cell now."

Stephens nodded, barely glancing up. Dent turned to go but stopped, curiosity eating at him.

"And tell Gordon he's invited to the press conference tomorrow morning. 8 am sharp."

"About what?"

Dent studied him for a second. Stephens looked up, expression completely open. Maybe Gordon had kept their prisoner transfer idea secret. They'd all three agreed on that when they'd first started planning, but Harvey hadn't been sure the detective knew that his unit was _not_ exempt. "Wayne and Gallagher's groundbreaking ceremony for the new section of the Monorail," he clarified.

Stephens expression shifted. "Then maybe you should reconsider inviting Jim," he advised, a grin fighting his way onto his face.

"What do you mean?" Harvey asked, his own voice lightening in response to the other's jovial atmosphere.

"Because you're inviting the man who blew up the original."

Harvey stared at him. "If you're trying to tell me Gordon's the Batman, I can assure you you're dead wrong."

If possible, Stephens grin widened. "No, he's not the Batman," he agreed.

"Then what are you saying?"

"That the Batman loaned him his car."

..

The rain was pelting down that evening as the Batman patrolled his city. Bruce was exhausted. The imported gangsters had stretched GPD and him to the limit. He was fighting almost non-stop every night. This was the double-edged sword of the waiting game. Bruce had told Harvey that all they had to do was outlast the mob, since they had the mafia's funds. But they also had to outlast the violence and mayhem the loaned gangsters were wreaking on the city. And he was tiring.

The Batman's eyes zeroed in on three obvious hoodlums hurrying purposefully down a street. He instantly spotted their target, a businessman ahead of them, his briefcase above his head, uselessly trying to shield himself from the onslaught of the rain and oblivious to the danger coming up behind him. Bruce jumped and flew down to a lower, closer building to get a better angle.

The hoodlums had caught up and surrounded the businessman, and Bruce could finally make out the weapons two were holding: aluminum baseball bats. One swung and hit the man in the back, causing the businessman to cry out and crumple to the ground. As another reared back to deliver another hit, Wayne jumped. He flew straight into the bat-wielding tough and threw him to the ground. There was the barest moment of surprise before the remaining two turned their attack on him.

Their victim was still on the ground whimpering. Wayne grabbed the back of the man's shirt and hauled him out of the melee. He turned back to the others and parried the first, wild swing. Catching hold, he effortlessly flung the aluminum bat away.

The next dug into his jacket and pulled out a gun. Instantly Bruce chopped the man's wrist and he dropped the weapon. Bruce kicked it away, wondering why the man hadn't already had the gun out. The man then tried a desperate punch and Bruce barely shifted to avoid it, countering with a quick and vicious punch to the stomach and then head. That one was down. The first one he'd tackled was leaping back into the fray, and as he turned to face him he knew he'd made a mistake.

His innocent victim had found one of the (now-literal with his new suit) chinks in his armor and the slice of the knife blade tore into his back. In that split second of disorienting pain, the first attacker swung. The metal bat collided with Bruce's head and he toppled, barely able to slam one hand down to keep himself from falling over completely.

His innocent businessman even had blades in his shoes, he discovered as the man kicked him savagely. Another swing from the baseball bat twisted the knife the businessman had left in Bruce, and for a few seconds he was blinded from the crippling pain. The four swarmed around him, not giving him a moment.

With a snarl Bruce lashed out and tangled his legs around one of his assailants and kicked him down. Ignoring the blows raining down from the others, he buried his hands in the man's jacket and belt and half-hauled half-threw him into the 'victim' behind him. He was pretty sure he knew who it was now.

Rage, adrenaline, and a little bit of fear overwhelmed the pain, and he hauled himself up. He swung, he hit, he broke as many bones as he could, and in less than a minute the remaining two were bleeding on the ground. He staggered and almost fell with the second one.

But he had to keep going, he had to get this murderer. He turned slowly back to where the Joker was scrambling to his feet.

"You're a lot tougher than Brian and Marvin. I like that," the Joker complimented.

Teeth bared in his anger Bruce took a menacing step forward, but the sound of squealing tires behind him alerted him that they were no longer alone. Two black cars skidded to a sudden halt and armed men poured out and raced toward them. It was obvious they weren't the cavalry he was looking for.

The Joker smiled at the caped man and tilted his head. "I might have made a phone call," he admitted.

Batman swung at him, which the Joker dodged with a giggle. Furiously Bruce beat a hasty retreat, knowing he wouldn't last against all of them. Grabbing his grappling gun, he shot and then reeled himself up to the closest roof. Without pausing he ran to the edge and flew off into the night.

Back in the alley, the Joker reached down and gently dipped his fingers into the small pool of crimson.


End file.
